Sometime In The Night
by Angel of Music lover
Summary: Oh... he must have died sometime in the night. Grima says this though he knows exactly when Theodred has died and how. He was the one that killed the young Horse Lord sometime in the night. Oneshot. Revised for grammatical mistakes!


**A/N: Okay, so this is my first Lord of the Rings fic though I've loved the movies and book series for… pretty much four or five years of my life (and what long, obsessive years they were). I thought that this particular scene in the Two Towers really implied something more. So basically this is what I thought REALLY happened when Grima walks in on Eowyn and says "Oh… he must have died sometime in the night". Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings…**

It was dark and the figure in the bed was still, unmoving. If you had not been a healer that knew the young man you would have thought he was already dead he was so still. Of course, his death was coming quite soon, much too soon for his cousin's liking.

But this information would not deter the slippery shadow that slowly opened the door and glided into the room silently. Grima Wormtongue was now standing by the door, his coal black eyes blazing in the darkness as they bore into the person the bed… wanting to destroy it with the gaze. His features were curved into a wicked smirk and his pale skin seemed to glow against the pitch-black darkness of the room.

The hallways were empty. The Healers had taken their leave and hoped that their charge would make it through the night for there was nothing else they could do for him. But it was Grima's intent that the young master Theodred would not make it through this evening.

"Hello," he greeted calmly, knowing full well that Theodred would not be able to return the nicety. "You look well." Grima wiped away any smile on his face and slunk closer to the bed, his breath bated and his blood rushing in excitement.

He knew that this was just an assignment… something that his own true master had required of him in order for his greater good to be accomplished. But Grima could not deny that he got a considerable amount of pleasure from this. This was his chance.

"I have no grievance with you, my boy, make sure you know this," Grima whispered as his eyes surveyed the room with his beaded pupils. "But this simply must be done if Saruman is to succeed. And I assure you that I need him to succeed, but for more reasons than someone in your position might think, you filthy Horse Lord."

An image of his Golden Lady flitted behind Grima's eyelids and he grew excited once more.

"Once you are taken care of… she is alone. Your beautiful cousin, Eowyn, is truly alone and I will be the only one left to comfort her. Your father is Saruman's puppet and her brother is banished and soon… you will be dead." And then Grima felt the thing that was the closest to the emotion called 'glee' than he would ever feel or had ever felt. It was unbelievable how the emotion had taken over and now Grima was growing close to the end of his speech, eager.

"My you have many fine pillows," Grima noted and reached out to touch one. "It seems that Rohan pulls out their best for their dead or dying. I suppose you won't mind if I held one?" he asked. Had Thoedred been awake even he would have been fooled by Grima's greasy and slick words and would have handed a pillow over wordlessly to his murderer. This was Grima's talent… to convince others of things using just his voice.

And now came the moment… the moment that Grima had been waiting for. He had finished speaking aloud his intentions and was now at the moment before the deed was to be committed. It was that blissful moment perched perilously over the line between life and death. The moment between labored breath and silence and soon Grima was about to teeter right over to the other side. He relished in this moment of exhilaration and felt his pulse quicken and for a moment a flush of color nearly painted his pallid features. He held out the moment so long that when it came to the time when he pressed the velvety soft pillow against the dying man's face he did it with such fierceness and such desire that it was hard to control.

And Grima was a little surprised to note that Theodred's body actually reacted against the sudden lack of air. It jerked feebly and writhed and Grima's joy increased momentarily as he literally felt life slip away from underneath his hands. He made a bit of a grimace as he pushed the pillow down further so it would not slip and his breath involuntarily hitched in the excitement.

And then it was over. Grima thought it was far too quick for his liking but the satisfaction he felt could not be surpassed. As he pulled the pillow away Theodred's face was calm… silent… and peaceful. Grima gave a little grunt of distaste at this but still the rush of the deed was fresh and he would not be disappointed for long.

Then he was away from the bedside, pillow tucked back in its place under Theodred's head, which was slick with sweat still on his cooling face. And then, as quickly as he had come, and as silently, Grima made for the door. It opened with an eerie silence and then closed again quickly without so much of a click in the night. It was as if he were never there to begin with.

The darkness swallowed the truly still figure into the night.

……………………………………..

The next morning Grima reentered the same room having seen Eowyn enter it, looking distraught. He then walked in on the sight of her bowed over in grief over her cousin's body and he was able to contain his smile. In private, committing the acts for his Master, Grima could express his feelings as he wished. In public, he had to have more tact than that and to win Eowyn he had to be sympathetic and caring.

"Oh, he must have died… sometime in the night," Grima murmured and maintained an expression of sincerity. Eowyn's head snapped around with a surprising anger and Grima was surprised to see vehement hate behind her eyes.

"Leave me alone snake!" she demanded but her voice was hoarse with emotion and Grima caught her before she could leave the room again.

"Oh but you are alone," he whispered and he could see Eowyn stiffen defensively. This gave him encouragement to continue. "Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness, alone, in the bitter night," Grima hissed and he could sense Eowyn weakening, accepting his words. "When all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in around you, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?" Now he was sure that he had struck a nerve deep inside the fair maiden. Suddenly his tone changed and Grima reached out to touch her face… to feel her skin against hers and his blood rushed much like it had the night before. Even her skin felt chilled and Grima longed to grasp it more fiercely… to own it.

"So fair, yet so cold," he mused and was surprised when she did not flinch away but instead turned to look at him. "Like a morning of pale Spring still clinging to Winter's chill." Eowyn stared at him and for a moment he thought that he had her… that she had finally turned to him as he spoke the bitter words of her loneliness… the words that he hoped would drive her to accept any help that he should could offer and that would even force her to embrace him or to even grace him with a passionate, loving kiss.

But instead her blue eyes turned hard and cold and she drew away again from his hand that still lingered on her cheek.

"Your words are poison," she spat and as soon as the words passed her lips she spun on her heel and stormed away, her retreating figure leaving a coldness in the room that not even death could have stifled.

But Grima could sense, even through his frustration of her refusal to accept his advances, that he had rattled her very core… made her fear. And fear was always a good thing… it always made him the dominant one. And even though Eowyn had been the one to spit on his name and to storm away from him… Grima knew that through his tactics he had brought fear into the object of his desires and he felt briefly triumphant. He had won one small battle at least.

But the fact remained that he had not gotten as far as he had hoped. Grima glanced at Theodred's cold body and felt the stab of anger enter the pit of his stomach.

Things had not gone exactly to plan. And with disgust, he too left the room.

**A/N: I always loved that scene between them… anyway, please review and let me know what you thought!! Thanks!!**


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